Everything In Nature Is Resurrection
by hotwitchproblems
Summary: I intended this to be shorter. The story of what it was like for Misty when she resurrected herself. Warning for body horror. Title based off of Voltaire quote.


In the medical sense, to die is for the heart to stop, therefore shutting down the crucial functions of the body. In the dictionary sense, the act of dying is defined as 'to cease to live; undergo the complete and permanent cessation of all vital functions; become dead'. In the romantic and religious sense, many view it as the soul of a human being leaving their physical body.

When Misty Day was burned for her ability to resurrect the dead, all of those definitions went through her head. The fire burned her skin to ash and her insides were beginning to char. She screamed, thinking releasing her anger and frustration might make the physical pain go away. It only seemed to make it worse. Eventually she went into to shock, so the pain no longer bothered her. The faces of the mob in front of her began to blur and shake. While she could still think, she recited a prayer to herself. _Father in heaven, and Jesus Christ the Son, and the Holy Spirit, the three in one. Lord, God of the universe, and of all created things. You know all things and all of Heaven and earth belong to You, because, You have made everything and everything belongs to You. On our time on this earth may we recognize who you are and learn to worship only you_ she thought to herself. As she started fading away more and more, she forgot certain parts. _Help us Lord in our search for heavenly things when our minds are surrounded by earthly things. Help us, your children, to overcome the world and put more of the heavenly things in our remembrance. For the earthly things shall soon pass away and when we leave this earthly life we will have to face our judgement_. Everything got darker and her whole body grew cold. _Teach us Lord God what we must do to prepare us for the Wedding day, the Feast day in heaven. Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed and Holy is thy Name, Thy Kingdom is come, let Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven_. The light she had often heard about never came. _For the Heavenly Kingdom is Yours, and Yours is the power and the glory, for ever. Amen_. And everything became blackness.

Not darkness, not shadows. Even in those you can find the tiniest bit of light. Misty couldn't see anything or hear anything. She felt she had nothing to reach out with and there definitely weren't any tastes or smells on whatever plane she was in. Time went by without her knowing how long it had been. She didn't even feel herself thinking that much. Was this what it was like to literally be non-existent. She thought she was suppose to be with God, and deceased relatives and friends. Not stuck in a never ending blackness that made her feel as if she was truly pointless. Simply there, in the darkness, in silence.

But at one sudden moment, it changed. She did see a light now. A blinding white beam, that, since she had no physical body, didn't hurt her eyes. She felt something well up inside her. Not happiness, not sadness, not anger. Just something. She felt as if she was being pulled away and sucked in at the same time. After what felt like hours after hours of moving and seeing light, she finally felt like she was in a physical form.

At first, all she felt was a bleak coldness enclosing her. Next, the earthy smell of dirt and mud entered her nostrils. She had to force a little to get them open, but her eyes saw small trickles of light. She realized she was buried underground. And very sloppily at that. She heard birds chirping and the sound of frogs hopping across the swamp, catching flies along the way. She tried moving whatever form she was in, but as soon as she nudged even the slightest, a red-hot smouldering pain shot through out her. She had to suppress a cry of pain by pressing her lips together, more than they already were from being burned. Her tongue felt paper thin and shriveled.

She wasn't sure how long it took her to get out of her shallow grave, but she just remembered it being a blur of pain and slowing pulling melded skin apart through gnashed teeth. She finally, through the power of positive thought and pure passion and desire, emerged from under the dirt and sludge. She could barely comprehend where she was when she got a full visual understanding of her surroundings. The only thing she knew was that it was the late afternoon and the sky was coming close to twilight. She huffed and hurled herself onto her arms. She softened a wail in her throat and struggled not to collapse over. She felt tears come from her eyes and her chest starting to heave.

She realized she was actually alive. Back from the dead. She was too distressed to keep herself up. She sobbed and clenched her eyes shut. Her fingers clamped into the dirt and into a fist. She felt her tears soak into it. She lifted herself onto one elbow and yelped, still crying. She lifted her other arm again, biting her bottom lip. Coughing out what looked like blood red soot, she got onto her arms and knees.

She cried, thinking about how her alleged group of friends cast her out because of some power or ability she had just learned about. How she had so quickly been labeled a 'witch' and 'child of the Devil'. Before they burned her, they had locked her in the underground cellar of her childhood home. She struggled against ropes and duct-tape around her ankles and wrists. She sobbed and screamed, hoping someone would be in her house. Her dad skipped out on her and her mom when she was four. Her mom passed away when she was sixteen, leading her to seek a family within the group at her church. No one was home. All she heard when she stopped struggling was the stillness of the hot air and the house occasionally creaking in the wind.

Eventually a few male members of the church came into the cellar and drugged her with chloroform . When she came to she was tied to and in a shoddy made well, wearing what looked like an old nightgown. She started fighting and screaming, looking at a group of people she thought she could trust. They screamed back at her, causing her sadness to become anger. Two men stood next to her and the smell of gasoline swept through the swamp heat of the bayou. She fought harder and screamed out "It's you that will end in flames!" crying out over the crowd stressing her vocal chords "I swear it!". And then the spit of fire began to spread.

She fell again, too frail to trudge through the soggy ground. A wail came from her lips and she heard a few animals scurry away. She rolled onto her back and allowed the sun to hit her. She was now upset over the death itself. The overall experience from it.

She thought when she died, God would greet her in Heaven. She would gain wings and see her mother and grandmother. All she got was complete darkness. Timeless and spaceless darkness. If that's all she got at the end of life, what was the point in living anyway? She cried and stuck her fingers in the dirt again. She was overwhelmed with trying to handle the physical and mental pain, both on overdrive in that moment. The sun warmed her previously cold skin and she felt herself starting to wear out. She relaxed her body and bathed in the light. She felt herself dozing off and slipping into a dream.

In her dream, she was on her bed in her home. She looked around and saw sunlight streaming across her stuffed animals and books. The leaves of the plants on her windowsill fluttered, along with the lace curtains. She got up and walked towards her vanity. She gasped when she saw her reflection was her now. Or what she used to look like, anyway. She heard a woman humming and the staircase creak as someone ascended them. She turned towards the doorway and saw her mother, with a cup of tea and a plate of sliced oranges on a floral plastic tray. Her favorite snack when she was around eleven or twelve.

"Mama…" she managed to breath out. Her mother looked up and smiled. "Hello Misty. It's so good to see you." Her mom grabbed her hands and squeezed them, looking deep into her eyes. "M-mama…" Misty sputtered while tears started to roll down her face "Is this the real heaven?" Her mother paused, then sat on the foot of the bed and patted the spot next to her. Misty laughed through the tears and sat down.

Her mother moved a piece of hair away from her face "You never would wear barrettes." her mom laughed, but with a sad undertone. "Mama, where are we?" Her mom grabbed her hands again. "Oh, sweetie pie, I wish it _was _heaven. So badly. You can't imagine how much I miss you." her mom started to tear up and tried to smile. "This is a purgatory of sorts. We're not stuck here, it's actually a plane for the dead and near-dead to communicate." Misty nodded and gripped her mother's hands tighter. "Some of the best moments or your life were spent in this house." Her mom put her hand on her hair, brushing it. "And I'm so sorry I left that. And you." Misty laughed into a sob. Her mother wiped away her tears. "I came here to tell you that your time isn't up yet. Like Jesus, you arose victorious against tragedy. But tragedy leaves scars, so some of this is gonna hurt." Misty shook her head and walked over to the vanity, touching the plastic necklaces and clip on earrings. "So you mean I'm not stayin' here with you?" she stared down and noticed a music box. Something she had forgotten about as she had grown older. She lifted the lid and tinny music began playing. She realized it was a hymn, but she wasn't sure which one.

"I gave that to you on your eighth birthday." Her mom stood up and walked over, taking the music box out of Misty's hands. "You wouldn't go to sleep unless I wound it up and let it play at bedtime." Misty smiled, touching at the painted roses on the box. "I could tell you thought it was the greatest gift in the world. You never looked at your power as a gift or right. You didn't know anything different, so it was just something you got. It wasn't the power of resurrection that you saw as my greatest gift to you. It was this simple, wooden music box." Misty chuckled "Well, I was eight mama." Her mom looked up "No, even after that. You knew we didn't have much, so you treasured the physical-but-meaningful gifts I got you. You simply accepted your powers." her mom put the music box back on the vanity's counter.

"Misty, it's time to go back and use those powers to help people." Misty opened her mouth to protest "Good people." Her mother held onto her hand and didn't allow her to. "I promise, before you know it, we'll be together again." Her mother whispered and shut her eyes. The wind in the room got stronger and a warmth came across Misty's body. "I love you, honey bee." Misty smiled and sobbed a little "Make me proud." Her mom leaned up to plant a kiss on her forehead. Misty wiped at her face and tried to feign a smile. "And one more thing." Her mom opened her eyes and stared into Misty's. "Remember the mud."

With that last whisper from her mother, Misty woke up and was in the swamplands again. It was dark and the moon poorly shone through the trees. She realized her pain was noticeably more bearable. She got on her hands and knees, her body now just feeling overly sore. She thought about what had just happened. She wasn't sure if it was a dream or a heat induced hallucination. She went over the whole experience in her head and remembered the last thing her mother had said to her. _Remember the mud_.

The water reflected enough of the moonlight for her to see the edge of the swamp. She slowly crawled towards it, groaning as her sore limbs went up and down through the mud. _What mud could she have been talking about_, she thought as she tried to see in the dark. She grabbed a handful of the dirt beneath her and rubbed it on some of her burns. All that seemed to do was irritate them more. She thought harder about her mother's scarce executions of white magic and did remember one in particular.

She had candles around her in their 'back room', where she healed people who dared to approach a witch in such a Christian town. A man had been groaning and crying out as his mother assessed his wounds. She had been about five, peeking from behind the tye-dyed tapestry that acted as a door. She saw her mother stick her hand in a bucket and pulled out an olive green goop. She applied some to a slash on the man's stomach and he cried out again. "Now I told you," her mom had said sternly to the man "-this is gonna sting at first." he huffed out in frustration. "What is this stuff anyway?" the man asked "Well, it's a mixture of dirt, mud, swamp moss, water, and animal dung." She remembered the man shooting up and wiping away the paste "You're covering my cuts and burns in animal shit?!" he had shouted. He had ran out of their house as quickly as possible. But Misty remembered him returning when he realized that the 'animal shit' really was helping his wounds.

She crawled closer to the edge, finally noticing the green patch of mud near her. She grabbed as much as she could and threw it onto her chest. It did burn, like salt to a wound, but in a few minutes the burning sensation turned into a cool and soothing one. Like menthol lip balm on chapped lips. She finally smiled, grabbing more and putting it onto the rest of her body and letting it dry, like a mud mask. She crawled under a big oak tree and laid on her back, smiling wider when she saw how big the moon was that night. She started to hum and realized it was the tune of the song from her music box. As she settled into the warm night air, she shut her eyes and began to drift off, still humming while the crickets sang along with her.

Misty awoke when a few birds started chirping near her. She adjusted her eyes to the light and looked around. She glanced at her previous burial spot. Some form of anger swelled up in her chest, but instead of crying or feeling bad for herself she decided to use it for good. To let it fuel her. She stood up, slowly and carefully. Her legs were a little shaky which made her feel like 'The Little Mermaid'. She held onto the tree for support and looked over at the water. A lot of the mud had flaked off, but she still had few places that only water could reach.

She slipped into the pond and dipped her head underwater. She felt the warm water rush around her and a few fish fleeing from the sudden movement. She came back up and froze. She was face to face with an alligator. She wasn't scared of them. Her mother had taught her to love all God's creatures, whether they were 'bad' or not. But she did know how strong their jaws were.

She stared into it's eyes and felt like there was a sense of urgency. She gingerly guided her hands to the sides of it's face. This was the moment when most people would meet their fate and die from a gator bite. The only thing that happened was that the sense of urgency grew stronger. The gator moved it's head and started to swim away. She didn't know why, but she felt like she needed to follow it. It didn't feel like the gator wanted to hurt her. It almost felt like a protector. She paddled and realized she was starting to recognize the scenery around her. She was nearing the backyard of her old house.

The gator led her towards the small wooden pier and stopped, almost nodding it's head near the house. She didn't think anyone was home and felt like the coast was clear. With a small push, she got onto the pier and quickly ran to backdoor. She was surprised to find it unlocked.

The floor creaked as she stepped in and looking around, just double checking for any former 'friends'. Even though she did live there before dying, she still thought of it as her 'old' house. When her mom passed away it just didn't feel the same, so it's like she might as well not lived there at all. The stairs creaked even louder and she noticed how dusty the banister was. She wasn't too big on cleaning, but did wonder just how long she had been dead.

She entered the room that had once been happy and bright, but now the only thing still left on the walls were Fleetwood Mac posters and the faded & curling magazine pictures of Stevie Nicks she had used gum to stick them up. She rolled up as many as these posters as she could and grabbed some clothes from the closet. Throwing on her favorite gypsy skirt and blouse, she walked over to the dresser and found her big cloth bag. She threw a shawl on and stepped into her brown boots. The last thing she grabbed were all of her Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks tapes and the radio that had the tape deck to play them.

The muggy air hit her when she stepped outside and she took one last look at the place she had called home. She walked on the pier, looking for the alligator. She saw it waiting there for her. Not wanting to get her clothes and belongings wet, she followed along the edge of the swamp as it swam. Eventually she heard it give out what almost sounded like a cry of pain. She saw it slightly nod it's head and looked ahead of her.

In the distance, two men were hooting and hollering. She carefully moved throughout the trees, being careful they didn't notice her. When she got close enough she realized why the alligator had been crying. In front of her she saw several alligators, dead and hung upside down. She felt tears come to the corners of her eyes. She quickly wiped them away.

The men had left their camp and she looked around her. She didn't know how anyone could do this. Sure, she ate the occasional hamburger and had on leather boots, but she always knew to thank God for the animals that provided her with these things. Men like this killed for sport and money, not for necessity.

She heard some sticks crunched behind her and knew it was the men.

"You shouldn't kill God's creatures. Not for things like this." She touched the stomach of one of them. She turned around and saw them grimacing at her. "How can you be so cruel?" One of the men scoffed while the other drew his shotgun and pointed it at her. She laughed and quickly used her power to reanimate the two closest gators to them. The gun went off in the air as the men screamed in pain. She chuckled, allowing the gators to finish the job.

They were heavy, but she eventually brought them all back to life after getting them untied. The group of alligators looked at her and slightly hesitated before creeping back into the water.

She turned and saw the small shack the men had used. She decided this had to be her new home if she was to be safe. She walked in and started to set her things up.

Later in the day, when the sun was setting, she felt like she heard a voice. She opened her eyes and looked around, fearing someone had found her. She heard it again, and realized it wasn't really a voice. More of an omen or feeling. The feeling she had when she saw the alligators.

She followed the feeling all the way to the city and ended up at a morgue. She hid behind some shrubbery and saw two girls chatting in front of a silver car. One of them looked worried and the other seem annoyed by it. She got closer and heard them talking. Something about bringing a boy back. Something about black magic.

Once she heard that, she realized these girls were like her. Witches. But she knew they didn't have her ability since they wanted to use black magic. She knew she had to help them.

As they went in she said a prayer she was eighty percent sure would protect her and the girls from any type of demons entering this realm. She noticed the door had been propped open by a rock and when she thought it was safe, she slinked in through the crack.

She heard the girls talking and eventually trying to bring whoever this boy was back. She noticed the morgue door open and quickly hid behind a metal filing cabinet. The annoyed girl huffed and went back outside. The lights had been turned out, the only source coming from a few candles they had lit for the 'spell'. She saw the worried girl standing over what looked like the blonde teenage version of Frankenstein. He had arms and legs and a torso sewed together.

"I'm so sorry." she heard the girl whisper. She saw her plant a small kiss on his lips. The girl walked out and called out for the other. She walked in the room and looked at the boy. Placing her hands against the sides of his face, she shut her eyes and focused all her energy into her palms. A warm flow came throughout her body and the boy gasped. She felt dizzy and knew she needed to lie down, but also needed to stick with the girls. They wouldn't know what to do with a reanimated corpse. They were so angry at first.

She heard the door open and saw the worried girl come back in. The girl gasped when she saw the boy awake. She slipped away as the girl stood fascinated at the boy being back. She noticed the back door of the sedan was open and quickly collapsed onto the floor of it.

She opened her eyes and heard the girl talking to the boy as he screamed and thrashed about in the passenger's seat. "What am I gonna do with you?" the girl asked herself. Misty shot up "I'll help." The girl screamed. "Who the hell are you?!" the girl put her eyes back on the road. "Misty. Misty Day." she replied. The girl caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. "Misty Day…" the girl muttered to herself. "You're that girl who got burned at the stake." "And I'm back. And we need to get him to my place." the girl protested but eventually asked for directions.

Misty sat back and stared at the city lights. She didn't feel sad anymore. There were people like her and she was able to help them. She was using her gift for someone, finally. Someone who appreciated it.


End file.
